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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620625">i see this life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessseventy/pseuds/jessseventy'>jessseventy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012), Batman - All Media Types, Earth-27 (Fandom Page)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batfamily (DCU), Crossover, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Gen, Humour, Isolated Batfamily (DCU), Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, vigilantes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:55:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessseventy/pseuds/jessseventy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Arrow is in Gotham. The Clan lives in Gotham. The Arrows don't know the Clan exists.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Batfamily - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>271</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Connor Hawke hated Gotham. The city was absolute <em>shit</em> if you asked him, and while nobody did, he made sure his siblings knew. Although to be fair, Emiko started to complain first, so he secretly thought he got a free pass there.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The city was covered in smoggy misty something. Connor couldn’t be sure if it was smog or just mist from the water, because he was pretty sure Gotham wasn’t big on factories. Being like an island and all that. But it was misty-slash-smoggy and Connor didn’t like that, because he couldn’t see anything, and when asked later, he would use that as his excuse for why he didn’t notice the kid who was dressed in <em>fucking yellow</em> come up behind him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The guy had tapped him on the shoulder, and Connor had reacted, as he was expected to. He spun around and punched the guy in the face. Or, he tried to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he was even fully turned around, the guy had ducked, and before Connor’s fist was halfway through the punch, the guy had hooked his feet out from under him, and Connor had hit the ground. Rooftop. Whatever.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The guy leaned over Connor’s face, and casually pried his comm out of Connor’s ear, somehow knowing exactly where it was and how to turn it off. He pocketed it and studied Connor’s face. “Red Arrow. Huh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know me?” Connor asked, winded from the fall, and the guy shrugged.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ve never met. Want some advice? You should get out of Gotham, or at least not walk around as Red Arrow.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With that, the guy leaned back and sat down on the rooftop, crossing his legs, and just watching Connor as he sat up. The archer straightened and took a better look at the guy. He wasn’t that old. Maybe twenty. His uniform was black, the yellow muted. A hood cast shadows over his eyes, his knuckles smeared with yellow highlights, his knees and shoes and chest having highlights of the colour here and there. Overall, non-threatening. Except for the fact that he was on a rooftop of a fifteen-story building in Gotham, and had snuck up on Connor, wearing yellow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Yellow</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Connor couldn’t get over that. Yellow. Like, <em>yellow</em>-yellow. And the kid was just sitting there; Connor was pretty sure his eyes were shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who are you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh… yeah.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Signal. Sometimes I’m Lark. Sometimes Robin. But Signal, right now. And you’re Red Arrow. And you shouldn’t be here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Connor frowned. “Why not?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Duck.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was said perfectly calmly. Like Signal was asking him to pass him a pencil in class, like someone wasn’t about to shoot a bullet right at Connor’s head. Like everything was perfectly fine. And yet, it wasn’t fine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Signal’s foot slammed into Connor’s chest, sending him sprawling backwards, and he barely caught a glimpse of the black and yellow-clad figure as he rolled backwards, and pushed off the ground, flipping to his feet, as a gunshot rang through the air, and the bullet sparked off the rooftop to Connor's left. Connor scrambled to his feet, and dove into a roll, another gunshot ringing through the air. He drew an arrow halfway through the motion, stringing it in a single move, and came up onto one knee, already aiming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His blood was pounding through his ears, and he was holding his breath. Waiting for another shot. But instead, he saw a shadow cross the rooftop, one building over and three floors up, backlit by the rising moon. He couldn't tell who it was if it was male or female or neither or something else, something different, but he saw it, saw them jump between the gap from one construct to the next, something snapping out around them like wings, and they flew.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They landed on the rooftop right across from Connor and Signal, and they did something, Connor wasn't sure quite what, and then the shooter was falling, plummeting towards the ground. Connor flinched, wishing he had a net or something to catch the shooter, but he didn't. He could only watch in utter terror as they plummeted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then another shadow was there, Connor realized, perched on a lampost, delicately, and then the next second, the shooter was hanging upside down, the lampost shadow on the ground, a rope leading from the would-be killer's ankle up, looping around the lamposts top, and back down to the shadow, who was bracing their body weight to hold the shooter up in the air. Connor whirled around to look at Signal, who was already had a foot on the lip of the building.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cocky bastard had enough balls to give Connor a fucking two-fingered salute before he fucking jumped <em>off</em> the fucking building.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yes. Connor believed his swearing to be completely valid.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He was wearing <em>yellow</em>?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That's what you're asking?" Lian said, from where she was laying on the bed, head hanging off the edge. "Also, <em>shhh</em>! This isn't our house."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I know that dumbass," Emiko grumbled, still tracking Connor's pulse, holding his wrist in one hand, watching her watch go <em>tick-tick-tick </em>where it rested around her opposing arm. She let go of his hand and took ahold of his jaw instead, picking her phone up from where it was nestled in the blankets beside Lian's knee, and using the flashlight feature to check his eyes. "Yeah, you're fine. I don't think you have brain damage, so you're probably not making this shit up."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thanks," Connor said dryly, and Emiko shrugged, putting her phone away, and glancing around the room, out of habit. It was a big room, with a pair of tall windows on one wall, both with seats set into them, and a walk-in bathroom, and a bed more than big enough for the three of them to share if they wanted to; not that they'd be allowed to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Thea and Sara would be all for it, Connor knew that they'd probably actually jump at the chance, joining in on a sleepover and making a blanket-slash-pillow fort. And Artemis would be disapproving but ultimately uncaring about exactly what they did, while Roy would probably join in as well. Or at least let them do it. But Oliver and Laurel wouldn't, they'd want to keep up appearances, despite half the reason for them being in Gotham being 'shadows'.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was how Nyssa had put it, at least. Shadows in Gotham. Ones that didn't die. Which, was very obviously bad. The other half of the reason was that it was the annual Wayne Family Gala, and they'd been invited by the Waynes to come. Connor knew them, slightly. Barely. He knew that Roy was familiar with Jason Todd and that Lian knew Matt McGinnis and Oliver had spent time with Bruce in the past, but he didn't know the family.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And the family wasn't even all at the mansion yet, and Connor was already concerned. Because the room they were in right then, one of the guest rooms? One wall was covered with a mural, signed in the corner, a tidy script of <em>Damian Wayne </em>and a messier scribble that had taken Connor a while to figure out read <em>Duke T.W. </em>It was a strange cross between graffiti street art and classical styles, and depicted a dark Gotham skyline, with the sun barely shining behind it, halfway between morbid and hopeful. Connor couldn't tell if the sun was rising or setting. But the creepy part about it was the eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They weren't eyes-eyes. They weren't like in a cartoon, where the screen was just black, and then white circles would appear so that the animators didn't look super-lazy and the audience would have something semi-interesting to look at. It was more like people. Figures. There was one in a very pale blue. Well, they were black, seemingly flipping through the air between two buildings, but they had a light blue outline, like an aura or halo, and a single, tiny flick of white paint to give the figure an eye, and an even smaller dab of dark blue in the middle of it, making it seem like they were watching.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was another one, one that was pressed against a building, halfway up, outlined in a medium shade of purple, with a bit of yellow for the boots. One had a red halo, one was yellow. One had a splash of neon colours on them, one of them violet another with red spilling across their form, without a halo. At least a dozen and they were beautiful. But they were also creepy. It felt like they were staring down at Connor, watching him, and he wasn't sure how to handle that, exactly, because it was just a painting, but also, that one with the yellow halo was reminding him a lot of Signal.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's almost eight," Emiko reported, checking her watch to confirm the time. "D'you think we can get up without raising alarms yet?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I think that—" Connor started to say, only for a scream to crash through the walls of the mansion, making Lian sit upright, and Emiko flinch at the sheer volume of the speaker's voice, despite them not being anywhere near the trio's choice of a meeting room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>"TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE WAFFLES!?"</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The person who'd screamed turned out to be a blonde, hair tied back in a ragged, low ponytail, wearing a loose, long-sleeved purple shirt and sweatpants, and they found her arguing with Tim, one of the few Waynes who'd been at the house when the Arrows had arrived, in one of the kitchens. It seemed to be the most-used kitchen, as the table was scratched up, the fridge had pictures stuck to it with magnets, and the calendar on the wall was one of those family ones that you could get at Superstore or wherever.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Stephanie, I haven't had coffee—"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Tim! You live on coffee, I live on waffles! Where are the waffles?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So this was Stephanie then. She was one of Bruce Wayne's kids, via adoption, although she'd only been brought into their family a few years prior. She hadn't been at the house the day before, apparently in Blüdhaven with another one of the kids, Dick Grayson. Connor took her presence to mean that Dick was also at the house.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Ask Alfie, he probably hid them, god knows you need less sugar," Tim grumbled, leaning against the countertop beside the fridge, his arms crossed. Stephanie was standing across from him, fuming. She was taller than him, Connor noticed, but if she knew, she wasn't using it to help intimidate Tim.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Says you, of all people." Stephanie groaned, rubbing at her face with a hand before she turned around to look at the Arrows gathered in the doorway. Lian lifted a hand in a small wave, and Stephanie, who Connor expected to light up with excitement, sighed, and sunk into one of the chairs, folding her arms on the table and resting her head, face down, on top of them, like she was playing 7-up. "Hi, I can't be bothered to be polite, I'm tired."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Your fault for staying with Dick," Tim said, resting his head on the side of the fridge. "You know the guy doesn't know the concept of sleep."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You don't know the concept of sleep," Stephanie said, her voice muffled, and she gave her brother the middle finger without looking.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Miss Stephanie, if you could not gesture rudely in front of our guests, it would be most appreciated."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Holy shit. The only reason Connor didn't go flying six feet into the air was that he'd been trained not to do that when people randomly appeared behind or beside him with little to no warning. He twisted around to look at the speaker, finding the Waynes butler, Alfred Pennyworth, standing there, somehow in one of those strange suits that look formal but at the same time aren’t. The man raised an eyebrow at Connor, before stepping past him, and into the kitchen properly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And to answer your earlier question, I believe that Miss Kate took all the waffles when she left night."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a snort from Tim, which Connor took to mean there was some kind of inside joke there. He couldn't see it—then again, inside joke, not outside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Now, introduce yourself, I believe your shouting woke our guests here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What Connor had learned, in the short time he'd been at the Wayne mansion, was that the butler was the boss. He might have been working for the Wayne family, but he was in charge of it. Nobody went against what he said. Not even Bruce. So when Stephanie stood up and walked over to him, he wasn't all that surprised. She held her hand out, and he reluctantly shook it, wary of the calluses he had from archery, and preparing to answer a question about it, but she said nothing, just a random, generic greeting, doing the same for Lian and Emiko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then she turned back around and went straight back to playing 7-up all by herself. Tim was herded into the chair beside her, and Connor found himself sitting across from the kid, who was poking at Stephanie's elbow in a fairly standard pattern, propping his chin up with his other hand. A plate of eggs was set before Connor, with bacon on the side. He was asked if he wanted juice, and if so, what kind. As Alfred moved around the kitchen, more people trickled into the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I heard screaming." Harper, a blue-and-purple haired girl said, sitting down beside Stephanie. "Wasn't the brat, so what was it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The waffles are gone," Stephanie grumbled, shoving a bit of egg into her mouth, her head down. "Imma kill Kate, wanna help?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Jay'll help you," Harper said, accepting a plate from Alfred. "Thanks, Al."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She began to eat, and Stephanie shook her head, moving her egg around on her plate with her fork. Connor wasn't sure why, but all the plates were those plastic bendy ones that came in neon colours and the glasses were the same. The knives and forks were plastic, brightly coloured sporks with the little serrated side for cutting. It was like the Wayne's stabbed each other with their forks and Alfred had gotten tired of it so he'd given them ones they couldn't stab each other with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was probably just easier than replacing broken dishes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Jay loves Kate. She takes him to the range, remember? He won’t help me murder her, and Tim won't, and you won't. Dick certainly won't either."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Cass?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Do we know the same Cass?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What about Cass?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was Cullen. Harper's biological brother. He had the same haircut as she did, minus the hair dye, and slumped into the seat beside Tim, away from Harper. Sitting down right beside him was Terry, one of the young-ish kids, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and over his head. The only reason Connor knew it was Terry was that he and Cullen had always clung side-by-side the day before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Steph wants to murder Kate," Tim said, sipping at his glass of water, and making a face at it. "Waffles."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That explained everything, apparently, and Cullen quickly opted out of the murder mission, followed by Terry. Harper then suggested Matt, Terry's biological brother, which was shot down by all the Waynes at the table on the premise of 'too young, we haven't corrupted him properly yet'. To which Terry punched Cullen in the shoulder for, before hiding back under his blanket. Stephanie got up and scraped the remainder of her eggs off her plate and into a dog bowl, which was white, with black, cursive lettering that Connor couldn't read from his angle. She moved to the sink, and ran the tap, even as Harper continued to suggest people she could involve in the murder plan.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bette was shot down on account of being too loyal to Kate, and Claire on account of—Connor wasn't sure what, but she was. It continued, and Stephanie sat back down, hugging her knees, and leaning her head back against the chair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Who's dead?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke walked in with that as his introduction. Connor had met the guy briefly, the day before. He seemed quiet. Had mostly stuck to the library that the Wayne's seemed to spend a lot of time in, drawing. But let insane than the rest of the Wayne's, and Connor was saying that as someone who had been raised by an assassin, as someone who spent time with people who were practically gods.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Kate will be," Stephanie growled, as Duke sat down beside Harper, and gave the Arrow's a little wave. Lian waved back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Dibs out," he said easily, and Stephanie groaned.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why is nobody in this family willing to help me commit a homicide?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Cuz I don't want to get arrested, duh."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She groaned again, head slumping down to rest on her knees. "Ugh, my god, when is Cass getting here?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Miss Cassandra will be arriving with Mister Jason shortly." Alfred smoothly filled in, still cooking at the stove. "Miss Stephanie, if you would go get dressed, and perhaps have a shower, it might be productive."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stephanie groaned a final time, but stood up, pushed her chair in, and walked out, flashing a peace sign at the room before she vanished from sight, just as Thea and Tommy came in, the two of them understandably concerned by the way that Cullen said, "Hey, I bet Luke'll help kill Kate."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At the look he got from Thea, one that very clearly said what the fuck did I just walk into, Connor shrugged and tried to return the look with one of his own that he hoped conveyed<em> I don't know but I think they're safe so don't worry</em>. Thea didn't seem reassured in the least, even as she sat down beside Emiko.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>Roy found Jason exactly where he expected to find the kid. In the library, sitting on the couch, reading some novel in a language that Roy didn't understand nor want to. He didn't understand how, despite being a vigilante, and member of the Justice League, Jason still knew more languages than him and was more comfortable speaking and reading and writing in said languages than Roy was. </p></div><div class=""><p>Jason said that it was because he needed something interesting to do.</p></div><div class=""><p>"What'cha reading?" Roy asked, sitting down beside his fellow redhead, and leaning over Jason's shoulder to try and read part of the story. He got zilch, and gave up, leaning back. Jason shrugged and rattled off some series of words that Roy didn't even want to <em>try</em>and pronounce. "Which means?"</p></div><div class=""><p>"Learn a fucking language," Jason said, not looking up from his book. "What's happening? Has the brat stabbed someone?"</p></div><div class=""><p>The fact that that was a casual question at the manor was not something lost on Roy. He glanced around, wondering if any of the other kids were in the library. Duke was, sitting on the ladder that slid along the shelves, like from that scene in Beauty and the Beast, engrossed in a very large book that Roy was certain wasn't his grade level and instead was a university-level or higher textbook. Knowing the Wayne's, Duke was probably learning about how to do brain surgery or something equally insane.</p></div><div class=""><p>Or maybe he was learning about black holes.</p></div><div class=""><p>That... wasn't much better.</p></div><div class=""><p>"No, but Cullen's going to be dragging a few people out to go clothes shopping. Cass seems up for it, Stephanie doesn't care, Tim just wants coffee and I don't know why they're dragging Thea along with them but they are."</p></div><div class=""><p>Roy paused, considering. “Don't you guys throw a lot of these things? Don't you already have clothing for it?"</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>"Stephanie tends to wear the same thing every time," Duke called, not looking up from his book. "Cass just likes to try clothes on. And Cullen probably wants to get out of the house before Kate gets here so he can avoid the waffle explosion, although by taking Stephanie, he's not helping himself in the least."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Eh, so long as it's not the brat I don't care," Jason said, with a half-shrug. "Chances are Cullen'll pull me along too, if only so that he's not the only guy. Although Cass is cassgender, so that would make Stephanie the only girl."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What now?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Cass?" Jason glanced up. "Yeah, we had this entire thing last Pride, where Cass finally asked what the fuck Pride is and turns out that Stephanie had a PowerPoint presentation for it just like she does with everything else. That's how we found out that Carrie's aro-ace, and also how she figured it out. Along with Duke going<em> Oh, so that's why you punched Liam for hitting on you for a week straight</em>. Cass didn't seem to realize that gender's a thing, and kept pointing at the cassgender flag and then herself, so yeah, that happened. Pronoun indifferent.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roy blinked. Shockingly, that wasn't surprising in the least. When he'd first met Carrie, it had been during movie night and she'd walked out during the romance parts, every time. And Cass never seemed to call anyone man or woman or anything. They were just people to her. Stephanie with the PowerPoint was somewhat new, but not that much.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It was entertaining because Stephanie kept going off on these little side explanations and Kate had to keep dragging her back to the point at hand. On the bright side, Matt is now well-informed and siding with Carrie about being ace, although he's not sure about the aro part. He's also taken to asking people we met for their pronouns, no matter who they are, and it's given more than one person a minor heart attack."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roy snickered. He didn't know the McGinnis siblings all that well, or even anyone but Jason all that well—hell, Jason was still largely a mystery—but he could defiantly believe Matt would be that kind of person. "That's hilarious."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're forgetting about the time the Principal wanted to send Damian to an all-boys school," Duke called, finally looking up from his book. "And he told her he was gay, despite having no clue if he is or not."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why am I not surprised?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Because you've spent long enough around us that you're used to the minor insanity that occurs."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Right on cue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>"JASON!"</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That would be Stephanie, shouting from at least one floor down, and probably halfway across the mansion. Roy resisted the urge to cover his ears; Stephanie had really good lungs. And was loud. And could out-talk a speedster, for sure, even though that had never been tested. Duke made a quiet oh no noise, to which Roy gave him a look. Jason dog-eared his book, and leaned forwards as if that might carry his voice further "FUCK OFF STEPH!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not three seconds later, Stephanie skidded into the library, which should have been near impossible, given how far she'd been earlier, but Roy didn't question it. She was wearing fuzzy grey socks, the kind that when you put them both on the right foot and put your feet side by side, then it makes a little picture of a cat or whatever, and they let her slid right across the floor. She nearly overbalanced, but her arms waved around, and she caught herself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Found him!" she shouted out the door, and there was no reply other than a faint call of <em>no yelling the brats asleep </em>and then a scream of surprise. Or maybe pain. Roy didn't want to find out, even as Cassandra glided into the room after Stephanie. She was wearing black ballet slippers, the fancy ones that let people stand up on the actual tips of their toes, and they made a quiet tapping noise with every step. She did a little twirl on one foot, other foot tucked up, one hand down at her side, the other above her head, and then followed it with a sort of curtsy-bow. Roy clapped for her, and she beamed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So, we're going shopping," Stephanie began, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder to point at the doorway behind her, as Cass started to spin again, on both feet, the tapping noise soothing to Roy's aching ears, after Stephanie and Jason's yelling. He heard another screech from somewhere in the house before things went silent. "For waffles and clothing, and Cullen wants to get Cass something nice to wear after that thing,"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roy had the sense not to ask what the thing was. Knowing the Wayne's, it was probably some kind of explosion or someone setting someone else on fire. (Roy had been there when Dick had gotten Jason to light him on fire so he could run around doing acrobatics while on fire. He was pretty sure he still had the video somewhere on his phone.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And you're coming with."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Because Cass wants you to," Stephanie said, crossing her arms and leaning her weight out on one hip. Cass finished her spinning, and lifted one foot straight up, parallel to her torso, not even holding it in place with a hand. Roy stared, wondering how exactly someone was able to do that, and also worrying that Cass might injure herself. But the dancer didn't, lowering her leg and shifting her foot, rising on that toe, her other leg arching up behind her, arms spread like a dragon's wings. "You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cass lowered herself back down, feet flat on the ground, and beamed at Jason, who closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his book. The streak of white that tipped his forehead, cutting through the dark red-black hair, hung over the top edge of the hardcover novel. He muttered something, and then sat up, glaring at Stephanie. "You owe me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why me?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Because you're the one who's yelling. Also, Roy is coming."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What?!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roy wasn't given a choice in the end. He was not only dragged out by Jason, who was bringing his copy of whatever the fuck that book was, but Cassandra, who, still in her black ballet shoes, black leggings, and the oversized blue hoodie that Roy was fairly certain belonged to Dick, looped her arm through his and cheerfully dragged him outside, towards one of the less noticeable cars.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The good thing about Gotham, Roy had to admit, was that the citizens didn't give a flying fuck who you were. If you were their mayor, whatever. Cool. But they gotta get milk, so <em>bye</em>. It gave the Wayne family a lot of freedoms that Roy didn't always have. They didn't have to worry about public opinion because the public didn't really <em>have</em> an opinion.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unless you were an outsider, they didn't care. (Roy had asked Jason about that once, about when Superman had come in to try and help rebuild after an alien invasion. Jason had deadpanned, not even looking up from his copy of Twilight—he'd lost a dare to Stephanie—that Gotham had done just fine on its own up until now, and Superman hadn't thrown the Joker into the bay, so he could fuck off. Roy hadn't asked again.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Gas mask check," Tim had said while they were in the boot room, and to Roy's shock, all the Wayne's held up gas masks. The proper ones, the ones that you saw graffiti artists use so they didn't breathe in the fumes, the ones that covered the mouth and nose. Stephanie's was purple, with white swirls all across it, Cass had her's painted in white, with little bees flying all over it, Jason's was unaltered, Tim's looked like Damian might have gotten his hands on it at some point, as there was Arabic scribbled all over it, and Cullen's was neon green.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why the fuck." Thea said. Not asked. Just said. Cullen shrugged, looping his mask around his neck, so it hung below his chin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Joker gas, Scarecrow gas, Poison Ivy uses gas sometimes, and Harley Quinn likes to throw coloured smoke bombs around," he answered, opening the door to the garage, and flicking the lights on. "We should have some spares in the car, you don't mind yellow, right?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roy ended up with yellow. Thea got red. He still didn't get why they needed it, since the criminals were in Arkham, and there hadn't been any breakout alerts, but he wasn't given a choice in bringing it or not. And that was how Roy Harper ended up at a mall somewhere in Gotham, sitting across from Jason in the food court, who was reading his book, and staring at the people who passed by.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All of them had gas masks. On their necks, hooked onto belt loops or backpacks or carried in their hands, most of them similar to the Wayne masks, but some of them were different, with different features attached or whatnot. And most of them had been altered, probably by the owners or someone paid to do it, just like the Wayne's were.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And nobody found it strange. Roy tried to find a single person who wasn't carrying or wearing a mask, but the only person he could find who didn't have a mask within reach was a kid who was maybe four, and he could see that their parent had one their size hanging off his backpack.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"This city is so weird," he whispered to Thea, who nodded, nibbling at a fry. Tim had wandered off at some point to look at a video game store, and Cass, Cullen, and Stephanie were probably doing what they'd come here to do. "Hey, Jace?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What?" Jason asked, flipping a page.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why are some of the masks decorated the same?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason glanced up, and looked around, then to Roy. "That's the Clan."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The Clan?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Gotham vigilantes?" Jason tried, looking very, very confused as to why Roy and Thea had no idea what he was on about. "You know. Robin, Bluejay, Spoiler, Red Hood?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Never heard of them," Thea said, keeping her voice down, which was smart, in Roy's opinion. Gotham didn't like outsiders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason sighed, and fished out his phone, scrolling through something, before he passed it over. Roy took it, and Thea leaned over to read it over his shoulder. It was a sort of rough drawing of someone, a woman, maybe, most of the colouring black, but there was bright red in it too. After a moment, he scrolled down, away from it, and began to read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Batwoman</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>This member of the Clan hasn't been around the longest, but don't let that fool you. She's got the martial arts down just as well as Spoiler, and while she's not the most acrobatic member there is, she can hold her own in a battle of the flips. Known for her willingness to use a gun, her bright red hair and her fists, this badass fighter is more than willing to throw down with the likes of Bane, the Joker, and the Shadow Assassins.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Best Asset: Well-Rounded</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The next image showed what also appeared to be a girl, this one walking towards the camera. Like Batwoman's, it was also a drawing, but the girl looked younger, with dark hair that was shorter than Batwoman's, and golden-yellow accents on the uniform, seemingly outlining a bat symbol, the tops of the wings just swimming the base of her collarbone, a ninja-mask pulled up over her mouth and nose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Black Bat</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Remember Shadow? That person that the conspiracy theorists insisted existed, but nobody could ever prove did? That's this gal. She doesn't use weapons like Red Hood, Nightwing, or some of the others, but that doesn't mean she can't kick your ass to hell and back. She's known not for things, but rather a lack of them. Doesn't tend to make sound or talk, making some theorize that she's mute, deaf, or just shy.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Best Asset: Silence</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then several images. Of several people. Dressed in red, mostly, with yellow and black and green, hoods and cloaks and what might be a shawl wrapped around the wearer's shoulders, covering their upper torso.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Robins</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>You know them. They've been around for a long time. But our current Robins, we've named. You've got Stabby, who's the one with the katana and who's more willing than any other Clan member to start a fight or end it. You've got Hoodie, the one who's a bit newer to the game, teamed up with Signal and Orphan, and you've got Newbie, who's the newest, or, as Stabby calls them, Incompetent. You'll find that one running around with Stabby Robin and Neon Batgirl.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Stabby's Best Asset: Katana</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Hoodie's Best Asset: Charm</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Newbie's Best Asset: Teamwork</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't understand," Thea said, looking up, even as Roy continued to scroll down, finding someone—two someones, actually—by the name of Nightwing, one with blue, one with purple, someone called Bluebird, Gotham, Hawkfire, Batman, on and on and on. "Who are these people?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The vigilantes. Like how your town has the green one, the blue one, the red one, the one who looks like a furry minus the fur—" Jason cut himself off as Stephanie appeared at the table, Cullen and Cass beside her. "Timbo wandered off about an hour ago, went to play Xbox or something."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We'll find him then." Stephanie decided, and Roy's eyes landed on the bag she was carrying. "Got something for Cass, so, we're good to go. Whatcha talking about?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Who the hell is Red Hood?" Roy asked, frowning back down at the phone, where an image of someone, holding a gun in each hand, stood out against a black backdrop.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>—known for decapitating—</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>—the second Robin—</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>—brutalized Red Robin—</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He sounds like a criminal."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"They're all criminals," Cullen said in a<em> no, duh</em> tone of voice, his eyes flitting over to Jason, who was staring at the pages of his book. "Just like Supergirl would be, or Black Canary would be if they weren't backed by the government or the Justice League. So yeah. He's a criminal. Just like Signal, Hawkfire, Orphan, and all the rest of the Clan."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Go now?" Cass asked hopefully, eyes shining as she popped a fry she'd nabbed from the basket in the middle of the table into her mouth. "Too loud. Can't think."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah, let's go find the coffee addict," Cullen said, tapping Jason on the shoulder, as Roy hurriedly copied the link off Jason's phone, sending it to himself, before he passed it back. "Cass is right; I'm going to end up with some kind of sensory overload if I don't get out of here soon."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No kidding." Stephanie agreed, linking arms with Jason, and hauling him to his feet. He made a grumbling noise, but let the shorter girl pull him away from the food court, as Cullen scooped up the fry basket, tossing one into his mouth. The blonde leaned into her older brother, who was still reading as he walked, the top of her head just about reaching his chin. "What's happening in your book?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That was..." Thea said softly, as Cass guided them towards the gaming store that Tim had vanished into earlier, and Roy nodded. "Strange. But I guess we figured out who Connor met last night."</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I take requests, asks and prompts on my <a href="https://jc71.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>!</p><p>This story is free to read on AO3 and Tumblr, and I have never given permission to anyone to post it anywhere else. If you have paid to read this story, then you have been scammed. If so, please inform me of what app or website made you pay, and other relevant details so that I might stop that from happening.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>"We're back!"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Kill me now," Duke said, in near-complete seriousness, to Dick. Who just snorted and reached out, ruffling Duke's hair. Duke didn't bother to swat Dick's hand away, more concerned with the fact that Damian was more than willing to oblige with his request, even though it hadn't been serious. Duke lifted one foot, and gave the mini-assassin terror a little push with his toes, warding him off, and wincing at the pain it brought.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Advil could only do so much, and running around Gotham all night beating people up usually ended in a lot of minor injuries. Duke had long ago gotten used to the constant throb of bruises and sore muscles, but last night had been worse than usual.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Gothamites, no matter who they were, from the Clan to the kindergartners, to the mayor, to the criminals, they all disliked outsiders and would band together to boot them out of their city. In the past, the Arrows, when they visited, along with the Supers, when they came for news reports, hadn't shown their faces as their secondary identities since the Superman accident. But then you had Connor, Lian, and Emiko, who thought it'd be a great idea to 'help out' the GCPD.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>There had been more than one murder attempt. Duke had spent a fair amount of time just trailing Connor, and taking out the random people who decided to take a shot at the kid. And while he hadn't taken any bullets, some of those guys were veterans and could pack a punch. Even with his foresight, he'd taken some hits. But the three teams who'd trailed the teenagers had managed to come away clean. Only Duke had been spotted by any of them, and that had been a calculated risk, and they needed the Arrows to know that they couldn't run around doing archery in Gotham.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The teams, respectively named the Extra Show—Damian, Matt, and Carrie—the Safety Lights—Duke, Cullen, and Terry—and the Crazy Bitches—Tim, Steph, and Cass—had done their jobs though, and nothing had gone to total shit, so Duke wasn't complaining. That much.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was difficult though, to have the Arrows around. Because Duke had, already, nearly said something that would be either a great cause for concern such as Damian, do you have any throwing knives, I'm cutting carrots or said something related to the Clan, which yeah, no, bad idea. And he knew that it could be worse; Dick was known as an acrobat publicly, so he could still flip around like nuts, for example. But it was still hard. And annoying, to have to check himself before he said anything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Disembowelment or decapitation?" Damian asked, and Duke, having lived in the house for a while now, knew that the kid wasn't totally serious. Still, kinda freaky.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Defenestration is always cool," Carrie suggested, humming along to the music she was listening to off her laptop, a single earbud in. "Very cinematic."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Defena—" Bette frowned, sitting in the armchair across the coffee table from Carrie, her legs thrown over one arm, head hanging over the other. "What now?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The act of throwing someone out a window." Carrie filled in, fingers sliding across the trackpad. "Ooh, this is some nice footage. Might make a music video or something, what about it?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Just make a Tik Tok and throw us into hell already," Bette grumbled, crossing her arms. Carrie made a noise of disagreement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't trust that app. Or Snapchat. Or Instagram, or Facebook. Tumblr's cool though."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Babs doesn't like it either," Dick said, grabbing Damian's hood, and yanking him back into the couch, away from Duke. "Says it's got a lot of shady shit on it, but we're paranoid as fuck, so I'm not getting involved in that conversation. I don't use my phone for much other than Google and calling you guys anyways."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone was stomping on the stairs, which was impressive, considering that they didn't have shoes on. From the sound of it, it was Jason. Who was probably going to vanish into either the woods behind the mansion or the upstairs gym and punch a lot of things, maybe pull out weird magic swords and stab something. Duke groaned, and Dick patted his head again, standing up to leave the room. "Gala's in a few hours guys. Make sure nothing is lying around that you don't want people to break."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The message was clear. Don't leave any signs of the Clan.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So, they defiantly know about us know." Tim summed up, fingers flying across his keyboard, as he did whatever Tim did on the laptop. Duke was guessing it was probably coding for the Cave defences. That was what Tim tended to do when he got nervous; just add more firewalls. There were maybe eighty billion of them by now. "I mean, considering that mess that happened at the mall they're going to be searching for us, and that is not going to go well, what with Gotham's tendency to turn random citizens into would-be assassins."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"They're not entirely random." Duke pointed out, and Tim did a little one-shoulder shrug, pausing, and reading back his code. "Anyways. How screwed are we?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Not much," Tim said. "We have plans for all of these situations, you know that. Unless things really, really go sideways, everything will turn out fine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Tim. I am not a genius. I see light, okay? So you're going to have to explain things to me because as much as I trust you, I also am silently freaking out, so if you could remedy that, that would be great."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Duke."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How long have you lived here?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Long enough that death threats and expecting myself to end up murdered at some point and being revived are things that I'm used to and have accepted."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Do you really want me to explain the plan?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke considered that. Tim's plans were notoriously convoluted. He went from A straight to O to G and then H before getting to B. They used words that Duke knew, but didn't want to know. They were crazier than Stephanie on a sugar high when she was sleep-deprived and high on adrenaline. Or just one of those things; all three of them together was terrifying and Duke had decided that the next time it happened he was hiding in the attic where nobody but Alfred went.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The attic was actually kind of nice, if you didn't mind the spiders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Fine." he amended, running a hand over his head, feeling claustrophobic in the clothing he'd been given to wear. "Don't blow up my brain."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mm." Tim nodded, and then sighed, resting his head on his palm, fingers tangling in his hair. With his off-hand, he reached out, and pressed down on the backspace key, holding it down. Duke watched in silence as lines of code upon lines of code were swept away, leaving a blank slate. Tim closed the laptop, and stood up, turning towards the doorway. "Should get going."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Right," Duke said and trailed after the more experienced vigilante. He'd been at the manor for going on three years now and was fully adjusted to the whacko bag of crazy that was their normal. Cassandra had taught him to read body language, Stephanie had taught him how to get people on the field to like him enough that they didn't feel the urge to murder him, Alfred had taught him how to use firearms and Jason had expanded on that, Dick had done acrobatics, Damian hadn't taught him much other than tiny people are dangerous, which he'd already known. Barbara had done hacking, Tim bo fighting, Luke and Kate military protocols and laws and whatnot, and Harper had taught him engineering. Or mechanics. He wasn't sure what the big difference was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was on top of the basic training that everyone went through, which was brutal by itself. How long can you hold your breath, how long can you stay awake, blood types, memorizing laws and streets and people and faces, solving cases, vanishing into the shadows, grappling, sky walking (as Stephanie liked to call parkour), mixed martial arts, driving, how to spy on people, how to forge identities and papers and cards and trick people and disguise yourself and drop off the grid. And fighting. Which, for the first two months or so had just consisted of the basics (Bat Basics, that was) before everyone took a turn kicking his ass around. The good news was that when Bette appeared, along with Carrie, Terry, and Matt, Duke had been able to do the ass-kicking.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wasn't sure how good he was since he didn't fight Bruce that often, as Bruce was the constant. It was mostly just Tim or Cass or Stephanie. But he could hold his own against two of the three, and Cass was teaching everyone how to read body language like she did. It was a slow process, as the lessons usually occurred at random with Cass dropping in with someone patrolling solo, and people-watch with them. She'd point out different people, and ask the person she was teaching what they thought of their body language. And she'd either say they were right or wrong, then correct them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a learning curve. Duke was pretty sure he was getting the hang of it, but Cass tended to drop in with him most of the time, so he did have the most practice. Cass liked him. She got him to give her piggyback rides and let her make art of her and asked him about things that she didn't ask the others about. He's not sure if it's because she likes him the most, or if it's because he didn't whine when she kicked his ass or if it was because he got her a Tumblr account that she spent an insane amount of time on, reading through incorrect quotes and studying theories and learning to write fanfiction or whatever, but she liked him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Honestly, it was probably because he spell-checked her stories for her and didn't mention it to anyone. (Cass had experimented with about a million different story types. She'd done slash, which she decided pretty quick wasn't something she was fond of, a half-dozen RPF stories about their family, which were things that happened and she transcribed them, and the rest was random things, from Harry Potter to Warrior Cats, every single story a one-shot. She had a fair amount of people hooked, which she was delighted by.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke's just glad she hasn't discovered My Immortal yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Speaking of Cass.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You look good." Duke greeted, and Cass, a good few inches shorter than him, and wearing flats, giggled happily in her regular quiet way, dressed in a simple black dress without sleeves, a simple cut that she pulled off with ease, a single silver band around one bicep, covering where he knew she had a gunshot scar. The other scars were either too well healed to be noticed when a little bit of makeup was added, or simply non-existent, thanks to treatments that allowed the Clan to break down the scar tissue, essentially removing them entirely, or just about. It was the more or less only reason the Clan members could go out in public without wearing long sleeves and jeans all the time. That and the excuse for Jason that they had, which was Joker.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You said that, and everyone would nod in understanding. Sometimes they'd share their own stories. It was a Gotham thing now. Everyone had a Joker scar or story or something. Some were just more obvious than others. Half the time, the comparisons were contests.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Thanks," Cass said, and she did a little spin, showing off, before she latched onto Duke's arm, grinning up at him. "Mine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You always claim Duke," Tim complained, either texting someone on his phone or sorting through something Clan related. "What's so special about him?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Nice," Cass said, leaning her head on Duke's shoulder. She wasn't tall enough to rest it on the top like she could with Tim sometimes, so it was more like she was leaning on him with her head. Not that Duke minded. "Not a vampire."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That joke wasn't funny when you said it the first time," Tim grumbled as Stephanie came up to them, beaming. She, like Tim, her twin, as they called him, was wearing sneakers, except hers had glittery purple laces, and she wasn't in a dress like Cass was. The Wayne's had long ago given up on wearing suits and gowns. Business casual was how they did it at this point, and Duke had a feeling that it would end up in pyjamas sometime in the future. So Stephanie, like Duke, was in blue jeans, and unlike Duke, was wearing a loose, black knit sweater. Probably to cover up the gouges she'd gotten in her arm from Killer Croc a week and a half earlier. "It's not funny now."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's hilarious," Duke said, and Cass nodded enthusiastically, while Stephanie tried not to laugh out loud, Tim still texting. "This is why she likes me, I support her."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes." Cass agreed gleefully. "Good brother."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke laughed, and Stephanie grabbed ahold of Tim's shoulder, turning him towards her, pulling his phone from his hands, clicking it off, and sliding it into her jeans pocket. "You're my partner, Double-R."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Of course I am." Tim sighed, and Stephanie looped her arm through his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Would you prefer the brat?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm fine with you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That's what I thought."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As expected, the brat—at some point, that term became a nickname and not something rude, Duke isn't sure when it happened—paired up with Dick, who was perfectly fine with the arrangement, while Bette and Claire stood semi-awkwardly near each other. They were new, and not adjusted to the synchronization that Duke had linked up with. Carrie came bouncing along with Cullen, who was grinning happily; no doubt they were going to talk about movies and TV shows and everything in between all night. Terry looked less-than-pleased to be partnered with his brother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Kate, as expected, was in jeans, a leather jacket, and right beside Renee, who looked like she would rather decapitate someone then be at the gala, but she was doing a rather admirable job of pretending that she was okay with participating. Carrie and Cullen had one of those fancy pens that could change colour and were playing tic-tac-toe on their hands and arms. Duke knew that they'd be using a 3D pen instead, but that... would get a lot of stares. Just from the way that the two wouldn't flinch at the burn of the plastic.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And also, you had to plug that in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sitting down at the same table that Cullen and Carrie were at, Duke glanced around, the ballroom full of guests and tables and chairs, everyone present with gas masks somewhere within reach, and of course, the people from out of town were confused. The Queen's were hovering in little groups at the edges of the crowds, the reporters from Starr and Chicago and Metropolis who hadn't ever come before in minor states of shock, and some other rich people from out of town.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There," Duke said, nodding towards a pair of men who were speaking, both holding glasses of wine. "The blonde is irritated, the other one is angry, right?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cassandra followed his gaze, humming the notes to a song from the Nutcracker, and nodded. "Correct. Better."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke grinned at her, and Harper threw herself down in the seat beside Carrie's, disgruntled. "Sick of this."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's been, like, ten minutes." Carrie pointed out, pushing her glasses up on her nose with the back of the pen. "You're not very patient today."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"She's never patient." Cullen pointed out, taking the pen from Carrie, and sticking one end on his shirt, clicking the button. He then crossed out a square, and blue ink flowed out before he handed it to Carrie. She used it on Harper's shirt, and it came out black.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Back and forth. Cullen would win one round, and then Carrie. She'd win a few, and he'd make a comeback. Harper got up to get food, and Duke tried to predict who was saying what in body language. Harper came back with food for each of them. Terry and Matt showed up with Emiko in tow, the girl looking faintly sick. Duke didn't change his expression, and dropped one hand below the table, resting his fist on Cass' bare leg, right above the knee. He began to make ASL letters, slowly spelling out a word, knowing Cass would take it as the question it was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>E-M-I-K-O</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cass opened up his fist with her hand, still under the table, and traced letters into his palm.</p>
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  <p>M-I-N-D S-I-C-K</p>
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  <p>So it was a mental thing then. Probably someone offhandedly mentioning something about an encounter with a Gotham rogue or someone explaining a scar. Maybe something to do with the Clan. Duke wrapped his fingers around Cass’s hand, and she shifted, so their fingers were interlaced. He could feel her pulse under his fingertips, thrumming against his own, and he relaxed his shoulders, leaning back in his chair, as Tim and Stephanie arrived, pulling chairs over so they could sit. The circular table was getting a bit crowded.</p>
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  <p>"Anyone want to play I Spy?" Stephanie asked, propping her chin on the heel of her hand. Carrie and Cullen weren't playing tic-tac-toe anymore, drawing on a napkin instead, and Carrie shook her head.</p>
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  <p>"No thanks." Duke declined, looking around the room again. Everyone was tense, waiting for something to happen, and he checked his phone, noting the time. Ah. That explained it. Either a rogue would bust in with some plot around now, or nothing would happen at all. Duke slid his phone away, meeting Tim's eyes. The older vigilante nodded once, slightly, barely a head tilt. Duke settles in, running through a mental checklist. Joker's in Arkham, probably drugged to high heaven for as long as they can keep him that way, and Two-Face is in there too. Penguin wouldn't hit the gala, and Ivy, along with Harley, aren't really criminals anymore. Anti-villains, maybe.</p>
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  <p>They're the crazy aunts to Kate's cool aunt.</p>
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  <p>And the rest? They're not out. Duke's fairly certain that they'll be fine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course, he's proven wrong. Fuck.</p>
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